The Siren and the Spectre
by Ki-Sa-Lin
Summary: Ripped from the world of the ordinary and thrust into a new world, the world of freaks, Siren begins her new, empty life of show-biz. Though when the owner of her troupe decides to perform one Halloween night, a certain band of spirits return once again to the land of the living in search of a new member to join them...
1. Run

**Author's Note:**

 **Welcome everyone to this little dabble of mine. Whilst I wait for inspiration to return to me for my Persona story, I felt I needed something else to keep myself occupied. What better way than to watch 'American Horror Story'? I was totally hooked and I became OBSESSED with a certain ghostly figure, who I'm sure you have figured out by now. 'Freak Show' is undoubtedly my favourite season, and I just felt I had to write this. Hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **Now, without any further ado, may I introduce you to... the first chapter of 'The Siren and the Spectre!'**

 **(Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this other than my OCs, so far Mistress Madeleine and, obviously, Siren!)**

* * *

They called her 'Siren'. It was the only name she accepted, if a little reluctantly. If she could have chosen, she would have preferred something else… but upon reading the old stories of sirens and sailors, she found herself strangely satisfied by the name, even if she often accompanied it with a bitter smirk.

The first Freak Show she was a part of was run by 'Mistress Madeleine', she was brought to it in 1948. She had only been young when she'd first been wheeled in, her wide eyes taking in everything around her. Though those big eyes did not shine with curiousity or the innocence of childhood; no, those eyes reflected the horrors only seen by veteran soldiers or detectives from stories.

Given her own caravan, a makeshift ramp up to the door, she was carried inside and settled onto the bed. Mistress brushed her hair slowly with her fingertips, the white of her costume now less dazzling in the dim light of the blank canvas of the caravan. This woman, her saviour, kept on petting her head as if she was a frightened kitten, whispering sweet comforts in this strange 'French' accent, pretending to occasionally forget herself and so slipped back into French once more.

'Mistress Madeleine and her Merry Band of Freaks and Oddities'. Quite a mouthful, she bitterly joked; the place which she'd now forever call home. She was no longer sure which part was the joke.

Curled up on a bed of alien materials, the softness feeling strange against her skin, she stared into space. The Mistress did not move for a long while, her hand lingering on the child's blonde hair, idly suggesting how she knew a great hairstylist or something that would clear up those tangles and bring out her true beauty. Siren cared not but did not voice her disinterest.

"Now, my little mermaid," Siren winced but the Mistress continued, "I shall leave you to get acquainted with your new home…" The woman stood, a false grace defining her every movement. She was a middle-aged woman; if it were not for the vibrant colours she coated herself in she would be just as unimpressive as the next chunky broad walking down the street. She spoke with the voice of culture, a 'French' accent. Yeah, that was bullshit.

"Just…" She waved her fingers in small circles for a moment, as if trying to pick out the right word before she forced it out at a greater volume, "Call for someone when you need help moving." Strange how a woman so very clearly born in Europe was unable to keep her accent straight, sometimes it ventured into the lands of Germany, Italy or even England. A poor actress, indeed.

The woman stepped out, closing the door behind her. Such tenderness… Siren frowned, lifting her hands up to wipe her cheek, a lipstick stain still lingering from when she was first brought into the camp. At least it was lipstick worn by Madeleine… however false the kindness could have been.

Imported, like a foreign good to be consumed, she now lay on this bed of fancy coloured, tasteless fabrics that made her look almost like she was to be treasured. Far from it. She blinked slowly, looking towards the open window, clearly envisioning getting up and running over the hills she saw from that pane of glass. A dream she would never be able to fulfil, even in the smallest of ways.

Green eyes, blonde hair, a vision of childhood beauty. Though appearances are always deceiving, aren't they?

Tucked up in a soft blanket of foreign warmth, this new little freak ran her eyes up and down the pale walls, the blank white curtains, the cheap wood. This new place of safety and pretty colours, banners all around, her face being painted at that very moment, she imagined… It was her new life. A prison, she believed.

She sat up slowly, her small fists grabbing at the sheets about her knees. She was thirsty.

Her head snapped to the side, eying the door with hatred. She closed her eyes tightly, willing things to be another way, any other way.

She turned her entire body to face the door, her eyes still closed. In her head, she imagined herself standing and running away once more. Running to the world she dreamed of, somewhere she could be happy again.

She did push off, she did try.

As she lay there, crumpled on the caravan floor, her eyes drier than ever before, the last remnants of her childhood died.

Like the little mermaid surrendering to the sea to become nothing but lifeless sea foam, the thirteen year old girl surrendered to the darkness that consumed her. Her heart beat steadily but all life seemed to drain from her.

She could have called for help, but she didn't. They'd find her eventually, likely when it was time to prepare for the show. She didn't care. Headliner or not, she couldn't care less.

What she would have given… to stand once more. To run in those infernal cross-country runs she always used to hate, to do that last minute dash to school and hear the yell of normality in her ear. Now, she could no longer do anything for herself. Now, she was nothing but a deformed freak.

She glanced down at what 'grew' from her mid thighs. The skin was joined, all the way down to her feet. The sides of them joined together as well. Not natural. Discoloured, patchy, scarred and ugly. A hellish tail created by only the most devilish of hands.

She looked away, stretching out her neck as if to get her head further away from that monstrosity. No one should have to see it, but now everyone would. She would sell that tail to be seen, sell her voice to be heard.

She smirked, resting her forehead against the wooden floor. The more she thought about it, the more it became like some sort of strange fairy-tale, like one she would have read as a child… Except there was no happy ending in sight.

Only freaks.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **There we have it, the opening and introduction to my newest OC, 'Siren'. Hopefully, the following chapters will be a bit longer than this as this was to try and set the scene a little bit...**

 **But anyway, please do leave a review (I know there's not a whole lot to comment on so far but I promise there'll be more next time) and I hope you enjoyed! See you next time!**


	2. Sing

**Author's Note:**

 **Ok real talk - I seriously love writing in this genre. It can be creepy, sad, romantic, corny... Goddarn it, that's why I just love this show! I don't even mind too much that there aren't many people reading this, I just love writing it.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Somebody get Siren in here already!" Yelled the pianist, the strongman of the group. Such an elegant instrument for a man with such thick, strong hands, Siren thought as she was carried into the tent by the strongman's partner, aptly named 'strongwoman'. How creative…

"She's right here, Al, calm yerself!" The woman yelled in a strangely low-pitched voice, not quite matching the vision of masculine beauty she was.

The strongwoman carried her up to the stage, settling her down on the movable, lightweight lounger. It had been decorated with gaudy, sea coloured sequins and sea shells. It was sickening.

Even her outfit was sickening to her, but she was thankful for the modesty. Her age helped, she supposed, though there would undoubtedly be people out there that wouldn't keep them from their fantasies. She didn't care much, just allowed for them to pose her like some form of beautiful mythical creature. Fake gems and seashells made the golden bodice glitter; the skirt went down to the join in the legs, making it appear as if they were entirely joined. All part of the illusion…

It was Halloween night; the lights were all being tampered. They weren't performing tonight, some superstition keeping the performers back or something like that… But Madeleine had insisted on at least a rehearsal. She was the last act to be rehearsed, due to how she would have to be carried back and forth between her caravan and the tent… seemed like a waste of energy. Besides, this was her first performance and Mistress Madeleine seemed to want to make things a little 'easier' on the young girl.

Her hair had been curled. If there was anything she did like about herself, it was her hair. It had always been long, a pretty blonde colour. It was soft and she loved running her fingers through it, so did anyone else who ever touched it. Though, after only a few short hours of being part of this whole thing… They'd already mucked that all up. True, it was temporary but having her hair curled and solidified through hairspray, she hated it.

"Ye alright there now, darlin'?" The strongwoman asked, as gently as her accent would allow, to which Siren gave her a cold look and nodded. She hated being rude, but she had no desire to smile.

Mistress Madeleine made a groan of annoyance, " _Non, non, non, mon chéri_!" The woman stood up, walking towards the stage, her face no longer stretched out into slight prettiness by a smile, her skin hung off of her cheek bone in that grotesque way only unhappiness brings. "You must smile!" Her face then twisted into a false smile, her fingers drawing the shape on her face as if Siren was too stupid to understand her.

The child frowned harder, to spite her, "I will smile when I have to," Her voice was quiet, despite how harsh she wanted her words to be, "Why waste a smile now when I could save it for an audience?"

Madeleine's smile quickly faded, deciding to turn away and ignore Siren's response. Of course her thoughts wouldn't matter; she was just a means to get more people in. A new freak meant more people, more people meant more money.

"Begin, my _little mermaid_ ," Madeleine turned as she reached her chair, swinging her arm around dramatically, "Give us all a show!"

Siren looked down, glancing at her hands. This was it, she figured. Time to show them that oh-so precious 'talent' of hers.

The sun vanished from the horizon, the darkness setting in.

The strongman, pianist, sat down once more on the piano stool and started playing. A simple chord pattern, the lights went down… The show had begun.

 _"_ _Have you ever been lost in a different world,  
Where everything you once knew  
Is gone?  
And you find yourself powerless  
With everything that exists…  
You're numb."_

Her voice was clear, soft with her underdeveloped lungs that expanded quickly with each sharp, silent breath she took. Her eyes settled onto the darkness of the seating area, the bright light on her face effectively blinding her. The empty seats watched her, and she watched them.

As if an angelic choir joined her, she allowed for her vocal ability to show through the non-verbal rise and fall of notes. Much like how quickly her life fell… She briefly looked up, half whispering the one line before the chorus her heart truly understood.

 _"_ _Will I ever break free…?"_

No.

 _"_ _I searched my world but I can't find you  
You're standing there but I can't touch you  
Try to talk but the words are just not there"_

Her hand stretched outwards, her eyes glinting with something… There was nothing there, nothing for her. She withdrew it.

 _"_ _I can feel a sense of danger  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger  
Paralyzed and you don't seem to care…"_

She closed her eyes, trying to force herself into the music. She could lose herself in it, if only she could figure out how…

 _"_ _The demons in my dreams."_

She no longer felt a need to open her eyes; no one was there to see her anyway. She lowered her head for a moment, taking another breath before continuing with another bitter verse.

 _"_ _If you become a nobody  
Blind, to your family  
Who would you be?"_

She almost smirked.

 _"_ _And life has gone into reverse  
Re-living every hurt  
Along the way…"_

Once again, she vocalized that small trill. Was that what it was called? No matter, she didn't care. The harshness of the fall sounded bittersweet to her ears.

Mistress Madeleine grew tired of it all. She stood up and rudely strutted backstage, passing by one of the jugglers and hissing, "It's not even a song about the sea, for Christ's sake!" Funny. Her accent had all but vanished.

Now, the big top was empty apart from the performers. A pianist, a violinist, a percussionist (who found himself with very little to do in this song), various other would-be musicians and a mermaid, singing her tiny soul out. Though as the tent filled with her soft voice, a new presence moved in… along with deep green tendrils of mist that curled their way through the tent flap.

 _"_ _Everything that you fear is calling you and drawing near…"_

How fitting.

 _"_ _I searched my world but I can't find you  
You're standing there but I can't touch you  
Try to talk but the words are just not there…"_

Siren opened her eyes once more, now seeing what appeared to be an unfamiliar silhouette walking down the aisle. A tall person, a flowing cape. A hat? The coldness from her face melted into curiousity, her eyes fixated on this silhouette.

A chill ran down her spine. He was watching her.

 _"_ _I can feel a sense of danger.  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger  
Paralyzed and you don't seem to care.  
The demons in my dreams…"_

A sudden strength rose up within her. This person… Whoever he was… She knew he was listening. She knew he could see inside of her, past her 'tail'. With all of the strength in her young lungs, she belted out the next part of her song, almost directing it to this stranger in the crowd who she stared at, her eyes filled with heartbreak.

 _"_ _Wake me up and let's go, yeah  
I'm about to explode!"_

Her voice was beautiful, though was tainted by the darkness a child of her age should not know. The piercing eyes of the stranger watched her, his lips slightly parted.

 _"_ _I searched my world but I can't find you  
You're standing there but I can't touch you  
Try to talk but the words…" _

She had to pause for just a brief moment, her eyes closing tightly. She had to at least try to conceal the despair in her eyes. She had promised to never cry again… or she had been made to promise that.

"- _are just not there.  
I can feel a sense of danger  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger  
Paralyzed and you don't seem to care…"_

The light dimmed, and all of a sudden, the handsome stranger became clear in her sight. He stared straight into her eyes, as if mesmerized by her voice… like a sailor to a siren. Under his gaze, the child felt herself shrinking, the final line falling from her lips.

 _"_ _The demons in my dreams…"_

The light went out. And he vanished.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **There we have it for this chapter! Just as a side note, please remember that this is more... contextual. Siren will not be thirteen throughout the entirety of the story, so no ultra creepy stuff!**

 **The song used is "Demons" by Brian McFadden, I do not own a word of it!**

 **I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next time!**


	3. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

 **Not much to say before this one, just please enjoy and leave a review if you did!**

* * *

What was all of that about, she asked herself. The rehearsal had gone off without a hitch, but now… All she could see was that man, all she could feel were his powerful eyes on her. She was not frightened of him, per say… if anything, she was more interested.

She was only a young girl, though at the age when most would deem themselves already adults. She had a reason to disregard her childhood, yes, but that didn't make it any less true. The girlish side to her personality was still intact in at least some ways, so she could hardly blame herself for thinking of this handsome stranger.

She hadn't changed out of her suit yet, but it's not like she could have anyway. With a sigh, she considered calling for someone to help her but once again stopped herself. She couldn't let anyone touch her; she hated being helped around all the time enough as it was… Hell, she had gotten herself dressed (mostly) on her own! She could manage, surely.

She had only just gotten started on undoing the tight lacing on her bodice when the door slammed open. She gasped in shock, pulling her blanket up to her chest to cover herself. Nothing was on show anyway, but her privacy had been invaded.

It was only Madeleine, her face painted with a sickly smile as she sauntered on into the caravan, " _Mon chéri_ … your song was beautiful tonight," She held a bottle of something in her hand, probably wine, and two glasses, "You should be very proud."

Clearly making herself at home, she settled the two glasses down on the countertop and started filling them up, "We should celebrate, my dear."

Siren stared at the strange woman, first in confusion then disgust; even she knew that alcohol was not for people her age. She was still a child, she told herself. Strange how children can go from accepting their youth to rejecting it in mere minutes…

Madeleine turned to her, the smile still very much there as she turned, with both glasses in hand. She held one glass out, tilting her head, "For a toast, to the start of your new career, _mon chéri_."

Siren did nothing, just watched her in silence. That seemed to offend the woman but she didn't lose the smile, turning it into a method of blackmail, "Come on now, wouldn't want this to go to waste. It's a special bottle I've been saving for an equally special occasion!"

Every part of her was telling her no, but she was bought up to be polite. In all situations. Lowering her eyes, she took the glass and looked into it. The liquid was white and strangely cloudy. She may have never had wine before but it never looked like that in movies…

She glanced up at Madeleine, watching her take a drink from hers. Or at least she brought it up to her lips, she barely saw them open. That was weird… But she really didn't know what to think about it.

"Do you like your new home, hm?" Madeleine stood up, turning to look out of the window over her bed, "We're lucky to be here, you know?"

This felt strange, uncomfortably so. This woman had just walked in to have a glass of wine and talk about the land they were settled in? What was this about?

She glanced down at the liquid in her glass once more, swirling it idly. Tiny specs of undissolved powder were settling on the bottom… That wasn't good, she was certain of that.

She looked up in shock, seeing Madeleine still looking out of the window, rambling on about something uninteresting. She glanced to the right, as if searching for a weapon or an escape.

A tall man stared back at her. She almost screamed but covered her mouth, somehow remaining silent. The black man stood there, he wore a skin tight, black and white striped body suit that only made him seem taller. His face… was horrifying in its blankness. His big white eyes stared at her, like the eyes of a dead fish.

His eyes slowly drifted down to the glass and then back up to her. His head moved in slow, long sweeps: left to right, right to left.

A horrible, cold fear spread from her stomach. The man turned his head to look at Madeleine, the woman still unaware of any of this, still nattering on.

"Are you happy being here, mon chéri?" She asked suddenly, turning around but immediately jolted back upon witnessing Siren's appearance, "G-Jesus! Why do you look like that? You've gone whiter than a sheet!" She exclaimed, placing a hand on her chest in shock.

Siren stayed quiet for a few tense moments, her hand eventually leaving her lips to rest shakily at her side, "M-Madame… Did you poison this drink?"

At first Madeleine looked appalled, sputtering out a ramble of false innocence, before it faded into an angered rant, "Wh-Why would you even think that of me?! I have brought you here, I have taken you into my arms, you ungrateful child!"

Siren felt herself tremble, ever so slightly. You'd think after all of the things she had seen, all of the things she had felt, that this would be the least terrifying.

Conjuring up enough courage, she raised her glass as if toasting the madwoman, revealing the ever increasing pile of powder forming at the bottom of her glass, "I don't believe… wine contains powder, Madame."

Madeleine's face, painted with makeup, a failed attempt at reaching beauty, distorted suddenly. She launched forward, her fingers wrapped harshly around the neck of the young girl, squeezing clearly with the intent to kill.

"You horrid little girl!" Her French accent was gone, the sounds of Siren's choking filling the silence between each mad ramble, "You vicious _freak_! This is why I collect you! This is why I purge you from this world, you vicious little creatures!"

Her voice then twisted and became hauntingly soft, she moved her face closer to Siren's and cooed to the slowly expiring child, "But it's alright, that's not your fault. You're born this way; you're just a stupid _freak_ that needs to return to hell where you belong…"

It was then, with her oxygen starved brain searching for an escape, searching for an answer, that Siren remembered each and every one of the freaks in this band. It had only been a single day… but she had not seen one other true 'freak'. Yes, there was the strongman and woman, the sword swallowers, jugglers, hypnotists… But for a 'freak show', there were no other physical oddities. No one that looked as strange as she did, whether born that way or not. What did this mean? She brought in freaks like her to dispose of? Why?

She tried to fight back, but she was too weak anyway. Malnourished as she was, she posed no threat to anyone. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to will it all to be over, for the pain to end.

Then Madeleine released her.

All too quickly, air rushed into her lungs, so fast her brain was sent spinning and she started coughing.

"Preying on the young and feeble, are we?" Came a deep, smooth voice… An old British accent?

She opened her bleary eyes, feeling lightheaded. Her head fell back against the wall, her chest heaving with full, wonderful breaths of oxygen. She saw a man standing over them both, Madeleine having moved to almost straddle her to more effectively strangle her. She felt as if his eyes were on her at first, but she was too dizzy to truly know.

Slowly he came into focus, his handsome features facing her. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at her with a strange softness, one she had not seen in a long time. She looked back up at him, no more fear on her face, simply relief.

She knew then, that he was the one who had watched her sing.

The smell of leather filled her nostrils, the soft material brushing over her cheek and then over her eyes. Her head swam once more, her eyes fluttering to a close. She saw green, then black as she faded back into this strangely sweet darkness that he brought. Like a warm embrace, his darkness consumed her and forced her into unconsciousness.

 _I look forward to hearing your story, my lovely…_

The darkness lifted a short while after, she wasn't sure how long. Her heavy eyes began to open, her hand rising to wipe the sleepiness from her face. Her hand felt heavier than before, and when she looked down she saw that something was draped over it, draped over all of her.

In surprise, she pushed herself up. She had been on the couch, hadn't she? Why was she on the bed? There was a warm blanket wrapped around her. Madeleine wouldn't have…

A distant yell caught her attention. It sounded like it was coming from behind her, outside. She groaned softly, straining her weak muscles to sit up. It was pitiful, she thought, that she barely had the energy to sit up anymore, let alone do anything for herself. She did manage though, lifting herself high enough to see out of the window.

Staring back at her, standing a short distance from her caravan, was the Victorian gentleman. At first she thought he was facing her, but then she realised that was certainly not the case. This devilish face had 'grown' from the back of his head, it's face twisted into a sinister smile.

The mysterious man was talking to Madeleine who was cowering in the grass, her skirts stained by the short green plants. She looked afraid but was talking constantly, as if telling a story. She hadn't seen Siren watching, her eyes fixated on the man in front of her instead.

That demonic face, however, appeared amused. Its lips occasionally moved, as if speaking but Madeleine did not seem to react. Siren could have sworn that, when the demon's eyes turned on her, that it's wide, evil smile seemed to fade just a little bit.

Then, faster than she had expected, the mysterious gentleman span around, turning the demon face to a terrified Madeleine.

Strangely though, from how fast he turned, time seemed to slow down. Perhaps it was the same for Madeleine in this moment before death, she didn't know nor did she care. Her eyes were focused elsewhere, on the true face of this man.

His eyes instantly met hers; burning with such intensity that it tore the breath from her throat. Unlike the other visage's permanent grin, his face looked… intimidating. He was already, of course, but the way he looked into her eyes, she could see pure fury. Though it appeared to fade, even in the mere seconds he faced her, fading into… amusement?

As she blinked, time sped ahead once more. She watched now as the seemingly calm and collected gentleman swung around, his hand travelling in a calculated arc of power, over his head and into her chest. The dagger, which he held in that leather bound hand, slipped in and out of her chest as if she was nothing. His movements were fast, brutal and deliberate, but he just kept going.

Madeleine, or what used to be her, still balanced on her feet, her head tilted back, her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her eyes, upturned to the heavens, glazed over quickly. Her legs gave out eventually and her lifeless body collapsed on the ground. Ugly and hopeless until the bitter end.

Siren blinked once more and four other people appeared. She jumped back just a little, still fixated on what she was seeing. The man, whom she assumed to be the leader, visibly shook his head and turned away from Madeleine's body, his cape swishing dramatically. With confident, slow strides, he walked ahead of his band of freaks, before vanishing once again in the deep green mists.

As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

As Siren sat here, alone in her caravan, she began to think. First, Madeleine: about her plotting and what would happen to the 'freak' show now… Second, that man.

She let out a shaky breath, her hand rising to touch her bruising throat. One final thought read clearly upon her face.

' _Where will I go, now?'_


	4. Drive

**Author's Note:**

 **I seriously love writing this - why write if you don't enjoy it?**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and please do consider leaving a review!**

* * *

It was a long and hard road before Siren found herself in a new 'home'.

After Madeleine's body was found, suspicion rose in the camp. These people weren't freaks, they had no sense of family with their fellow performers, but they did believe in punishment.

Young Siren woke, her wrists bound and crumpled on the floor of her caravan. Frightened and alone, she listened at the sound of motorcycle and car engines revved outside. It was a huge racket but it was muted slightly by the walls of her prison. At first, she thought that they were going to ram her caravan or drag it into the river, but nothing came.

Just the sounds of her only chance for survival speeding into the distance.

Condemned for the murder of a woman she could not have even reached, the freak just lay there, her heart beating wildly in her chest. They had left her to starve.

Already half-starved from her refusal to eat; this would not take long at all. People would quickly realise that the 'freaks' had moved on, they'd come and investigate the camp to clear it away. Perhaps the 'freaks' had called the cops... Maybe she had been tied up just to wait for them to arrive and take her away. Place her on the chair and happily send 2000 volts through her young brain. Lying there on her own, she seriously doubted that her age would do anything to sway the vote… She was a freak, they never listened to freaks.

She glanced down at her hands, the ropes binding them together would have been otherwise easy for her to remove but she knew she didn't have the physical or emotional strength to even try.

And so, this thirteen year old freak lay down her head and waited. She was afraid but she didn't have the energy to show it, she just closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her.

Sleep did come, but the clatter of the door opening roused her slowly from her slumber. It was dark now, but she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep. That sort of slumber that goes in the blink of an eye… She hated that.

Blinded by the mist in her eyes, she could barely make out the person kneeling down next to her. It was only when she heard the somewhat familiar deep voice that she realised who was there with her, "Come on, darlin'… Let's get ye out o' here."

The strongwoman, in all of her masculine gentleness, was carefully undoing the ropes from around Siren's skinny wrists. The girl looked up at the woman's stern face, her painted lips pressed into a tight line, "I don' know if ye did anythin', but I don' believe in leavin' you here ta die."

The woman, Siren could never remember her name, wrapped her up in a warm blanket and picked her up, bundled her into the car and started driving. They travelled for a long time, Siren being fed cheap, roadside food to try and restore her strength. For the first time in a long while, she actually enjoyed every mouthful.

Then, several days later, the car finally stopped. The woman turned to her and frowned, "This i' the only place I knew of where you could stay." Siren listened, looking out of the front at the big, coloured tent, the various banners.

Freaks, all of them individual, with physical and mental deformities and talents of all sorts. Siren shrunk in her seat, but the strongwoman just opened the car door and took her out once more, cradling her like a babe as they made the long walk to the tent, through the mouth of the demon and into the Freak Show.

The Strongwoman didn't stay for long; she just carried her into the tent and introduced the timid teen to the leader. An elegantly aged lady, draped with velvets and furs. Fraulein Elsa, or simply Miss Elsa, as everyone else called her. It did not take Elsa too long to begin to want Siren; her unique deformity easily catching her attention and her fragile condition… only fixed the deal. Once the contracts were signed, the strongwoman settled her down on an old wheelchair they had been keeping in the back, and left. Siren never saw her again.

And so the years passed. In most stories, the writer would describe the female lead growing into a tall and beautiful creature, desired by all and loved by all. But no, my dear reader, that is not the case. True, the girl known as 'Siren' did become beautiful in appearance, but she never grew taller. Her 'tail' limited her every growth, meaning that whenever her bones did grow, they did nothing but grind against the next. Agony was all she seemed to know now, her prettiness drowned in her sorrow.

She had taken to smoking. Before, the idea would have sickened her, but she quickly realised that it may be one of the only joys she could experience in life. She had grown to love food again soon after arriving in Elsa's 'Cabinet of Curiosities' but she could not exercise. The moment her weight began to show, Elsa made one simple comment and Siren stopped eating once again.

She could not drink alcohol for the same reason. Her appearance was so important to her act, that all she could do was smoke. She had to keep herself beautiful on top to enthral the audience, and then reveal the monstrosity that was her 'tail'.

For a short time, she had stood as headliner and goodness did she bring in the customers. Elsa can't handle not having the full attention of the crowd, however, and soon she found herself as just another act. She didn't mind as much, just meant less people focused on just her.

Her act was very similar to the one at the previous show, which was a bit of a relief, despite how she had only performed once. There would sometimes be a bit of variation, perhaps a duet with 'Lobster Boy', Jimmy Darling… Nothing too strange, for her anyway.

Speaking of Jimmy, he was definitely a sweet boy. He was the sort of boy that would flirt with a girl to make them feel more relaxed, but he wasn't always successful with Siren. When she had a cigarette between her slender fingers, however, she was often more willing to participate in playful banter. They were never particularly close or anything, but he was a great guy.

The Tattler twins moved in just before autumn began. Siren was polite but not overly friendly, establishing a civil relationship, though it always appeared she would get along better with Dot than she would Bette. Dot had that slightly pessimistic outlook that Siren could identify with

However, sometimes during rehearsal, Siren would ask someone to carry her into the audience space just to watch Salty and Pepper's performance with Ma Petite. She just adored watching their innocent dance of pure joy, free of any real world pains. She would smile then. They were always her favourites, she loved it when they came to visit her; especially Pepper.

Siren would read to her, talk with her and spend time with her. Pepper just loved to comb through Siren's blonde curls and was amazing at painting her nails. Siren never used her though; she would never make Pepper do anything. It seemed that the girl just loved to take care of others.

Some nights, Siren would go to Salty and Pepper's tent. She would read to both of them and, when the fell asleep, she would stay, as per Pepper's request. She could never say 'no' to her. She'd stay there, acting as a sort of guard dog for the two innocent lovers. She'd never be as dear to Pepper as Elsa was, but she was happy with that. She was not a mother, just a willing friend.

For the first time, she had a family who cared for her. None of them looked at her tail with anything other than recognition. None of them pressured her for her story and they accepted her with open arms. In fact… only Elsa had any idea what had happened to her, but she didn't know half of her story and she had no intention of revealing it anytime soon. It was as if she was saving her story for something… But that didn't matter. Here in this new show, she was safe, she was cared for…

So, why was she still totally miserable?

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed and please leave a review if you did!**


	5. Smoke

Siren sat at the table in the big top, idly watching the celebrations around her. Not sure what they were celebrating, that Meep was brutally killed? Such a joyous occasion.

Pulling the cigarette from her lips, she held the poisonous smoke for just a few more moments in her young lungs before she blew it all out, creating a small cloud that quickly dissipated into the air around her. It calmed her nerves, made her less bothered by everything around her.

Paul entered the tent, a small paper bag in his hands, "Siren, 'ere!" He called, throwing her yet another packet of cigarettes, "Maybe you could get your own cigs next time?"

Siren wasn't amused, "Yes, on my next casual _stroll_ into town, I'll be certain to get my own cigarettes. Maybe I'll even go dance at the local club, or go for a nice jog." She glared daggers, "I pay you extra to pick them up for me, quit complaining." Paul shrugged and joined in the festivities, having learnt long ago that it was better to leave Siren alone when she was like this.

Apple Bobbing, acrobatics… They were all so jovial that no one even turned to look as Jimmy entered the tent and sat down on his own, his head in his 'claws'.

The Tattler twins quickly ruined the mood, more specifically Dot, and put an end to the celebrations. With Jimmy's depression and Dot's anger, the tent fell quiet. What better time for a ghost story, hm?

Ethel came forward, telling this typical Halloween story that most would not take seriously. Letting another ribbon of smoke slip through her lips, Siren found herself only half listening. Admittedly, she did find it strange that she had never heard this story before now if it was such a well-known tale amongst the freaks, but maybe she just hadn't been listening.

She would have remained that way, ignorant to the silly scary stories of old. Though there was one part that instantly caught her attention, causing her to choke on smoke.

A handsome aristocrat, born with a face on the back of his head.

Ethel gave her a confused glance, a short flicker of concern but Siren waved it off, pretending not to be interested. Though now her curiousity had been peaked, her hand lowered with the cigarette balancing between her fingers.

The story continued, describing the emotional and mental agony he had lived with due to this extra face. The never-ending smile that made it appear demonic, as well as the constant whisperings simply brushed off as the host's insanity.

Edward Mordrake… Was that truly his name? Was that really the man who had been drawn to her singing? The man who killed Madeleine and disappeared into the night?

She got no answers to her unspoken questions, so she just watched as Ethel and Jimmy argued and the rest of the freaks began clearing up after themselves.

Eventually, with some help from Eve, she went backstage to prepare. It was a few hours before she was needed for any sort of rehearsal but she didn't mind. She'd just smoke and read, perhaps rehearse her songs.

The freaks seemed frightened, and so they probably should have been. For no matter how many times she was asked what she thought of the Edward Mordrake myth, she just shrugged her shoulders and took another drag.

Selfishly, she chose not to warn anyone of the reality that was Edward Mordrake. Even more selfishly, she wanted him to be summoned once again. However, she would not do so if she was the only one. She did not want to have more blood on her hands.

Elsa, however, was the one just dying to perform this All Hallows Eve. Her and the twins, though she quickly pushed them out of the way to practice her own number. A new one, a sultry tune that both suited her voice and didn't. Elsa was a strange performer in that way, perhaps it was her age… Siren didn't know.

Siren could hear Elsa's angered voice from behind the curtain, "Schnell!"

Idly, she wheeled herself further into the dressing room and casually looked over the surfaces. There was a piece of music there, titled 'Gods and Monsters'. Ah, Elsa's new song.

She skimmed her eyes over the lyrics and notes, her heart skipping upon reading a specific line. The opening notes of the haunting, seductive melody began and Siren felt a strange compulsion to follow the music and sing along to this song.

Without even thinking about it, her lips moved and she began to sing…

 _"_ _I was an angel…_

 _Living in the garden of evil…"_

Her notes were not always perfect, but whenever she wasn't sure, her voice went quiet enough to fade into that ambiguous whisper.

The sensuality of the song was palpable, she couldn't deny that; thick and heavy, a fire blooming in her chest. She closed her eyes briefly, relying on her memory for the following lines:

 _"_ _You got that medicine I need…"_

Her eyes remained closed, subconsciously missing out the occasional word. Was it just that she didn't remember…?

 _"_ _[Fame, liquor,] Love…_

 _Give it to me slowly._

 _Put your hands on my waist,_

 _Do it softly._

 _Me and God,_

 _We don't get along._

 _So, now I sing…"_

Her head reclined back, her hands lifting to run through her hair. Her heart was racing in her chest, her breath slightly laboured.

" _[No-one's gonna] Take my soul away…_

 _I'm living like Jim Morrison,_

 _Headed towards a messed up holiday_

 _[Hotel sprees, sprees and I'm singin']_

 _[Oh yeah, give it to me]_

 _This is heaven,_

 _What I truly want…_

 _It's innocence lost_

 _Innocence lost."_

Her eyes opened suddenly, what the hell was she doing? No one had seen her, but she had just… lost herself. She had never been able to lose herself in the music before, so why now?

Lowering her head in shame from the woman in the mirror who looked at her in disgust, she prepared to wheel herself out of there. She would usually ask for help when going back to her caravan as the grass was hell to wheel over, but here she didn't care.

Though just as she was about to leave, she had this feeling that someone was watching her. No one in the room, but as if someone was staring at her… through the wall. She shook her head clear, pushing on the wheels to slowly manoeuvre herself to the back of the tent. She struggled briefly with the tent flap but eventually managed it, pulling it up before pushing herself out into the night air.

Her eyes widened, her hands shooting up to cover her lips. She trembled.

Green mist ominously swirled its way through the camp, licking the wheels of her chair. She let out a shaky breath.

He was here.

It had been about an hour since Siren had left the tent, returning to her caravan. Smoothly, she flicked at her lighter, quickly catching the flame with her brand new cigarette. It might have been her twentieth today, she wasn't sure. She went through them so damn quickly and it's not like anyone was about to tell her otherwise.

The silence was thick, almost as thick as the fog that almost seemed to glow. _How dramatic_ , she chuckled bitterly.

She was seated at her dressing table, just looking into the mirror. She couldn't deny, she did have a pretty face. Pale skin, light blonde hair, green eyes… Who knows what could have been? Her eyes flickered down. If things were only different.

She shook her head, placing the cigarette briefly between her lips, and cleared the table of all makeup and miscellaneous objects. Tidying cleared her head, what little of it she could do on her own.

Glancing at the cheap radio, she contemplated turning it on to give her something to listen to, to fill this deep silence. Though something beat her to it.

"A good All Hallow's Eve to you, my lady…"

She knew that voice. That velvet, smooth purr that held a strange power over her. For several long seconds, she stared down at the wood of the table.

A soft smile tugged at her lips, and she turned her head to the side to see him standing there. It truly was him, Edward Mordrake.

Her smile remained as she lowered her head into a respectful bow.

"The same to you, good sir."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **And there he is~!**

 **Please leave a review if you enjoyed it and thank you for reading!**


	6. Fall

**Author's Note:**

 **And so it continues... after a slight break due to me being just too tired. Anywho, please enjoy!**

* * *

With her head lowered, she did not see the flicker of surprise in the tall man's eyes, his eyebrows ever so slightly rising. A freak who did not respond in fright? Interesting…

When she did raise her eyes, he tipped his hat in response, "You certainly have matured into a lovely young lady, my dear."

"I wish that was the case, sir," Her smile faltered, and she turned back to look at herself in the mirror, "I don't see much loveliness…" She could see him watching her through the reflection, his thick eyebrows slightly furrowed but his expression was otherwise unreadable. Shaking her head, she spoke once more, "Would you like to sit down?" Blinking her eyes towards him, she shrugged helplessly, "I would offer you a drink but…" Her hand trailed on her lap.

Edward lifted his hand, brushing it aside, "That is alright, I do not… desire the taste of alcohol." A strange whispering, too quiet for Siren to understand, began and he visibly frowned, looking as if he wanted to snap back at the visage for its insolence, but he held himself back. Closing his eyes, he spoke impatiently, "Enough pleasantries. We are here to choose our next pure freak, I must hear your story." _I have waited long enough…_

She bit her cheek, lowering her eyes, "Y-Yes… I suppose it is time somebody finally knows."

The Victorian gentleman took the seat opposite her, the width of the caravan making it so they were still fairly close together. She had turned herself in her chair, as if she was riding side-saddle, and folded her arms on top the wooden back. Resting her chin on her arms, she resigned herself to telling her story… in all of its horrific detail.

"I had a normal childhood, as normal as one can get anyway. I went to school, I had friends, I had good grades, and I had a family." She saw him tilt his head a little out of the corner of her eye, "I can't say it was a perfect existence but it was in comparison to what happened to me when I was eleven."

She shifted in her seat, "There were four of us, all from the same school. We were walking home one night when we were bundled into the back of a van." Her tone was emotionless, as if she was reading the story for the first time, "We were taken to this place in the countryside, totally out of the way. We were put in a sort of… cage."

Edward's head tilted slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing as she continued, "I remember he… had a strange obsession with mythical creatures and fairy-tales. He would have us dress up in these costumes: fairies, princesses… Then he'd rape us."

Out of habit, he reached into his pocket to pull out the pristine white handkerchief but, when she looked up, he stopped in his tracks. Her eyes were dry. His own widened, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm not sure how long we were there but we all got a lot thinner, a lot weaker and a lot less capable of fighting back. Things became… a lot worse when, one day, he decided that he only needed one child. He had this image, a sick twisted image of his perfect girl. His 'masterpiece', he called it." She spat that bloody word out, as if the word 'masterpiece' physically harmed her. Which, in a way, it did.

"He stopped feeding us, telling us that until there was only one child left, there would be no food at all." Her eyes flickered to the side, and he saw it, "I was the only one who survived the week, so I became his masterpiece."

She had a strange, glazed expression. She spoke so calmly about all of this, not one speck of emotion on her face no matter how much he tried to pick her apart. He shifted, moving back slowly as if intimidated by her harsh gaze as it turned on him, "He sewed my legs together but that didn't work, I kept tearing through the stitches. So, he tied me down and sewed the skin of my dead friends onto mine, as a sort of demonic skin graft." She sighed, brushing her hair back, "I don't know how long I was there after that, but it was long enough for my wounds to heal. He didn't let me move from that table, kept me strapped down nearly at all times. The next time I saw a clock or calendar… I was being bought out of the institution by Madeleine."

That surprised him, "You were institutionalised… Why?" She almost shuddered at the purr in his voice, but she held herself together somehow.

"He decided to leave me there when suspicion rose around the farm. He killed himself." Mordrake nodded slowly, _not surprising_ , "When the police arrived, they figured I was his… deformed and crazy child or something… Either way, I had killed him. I don't know how they came to that stupid conclusion, but they clearly saw me as the monster there." She looked down and quietly added, "Maybe they were right…"

His expression became suspicious, and he took a cautious breath before he spoke, "You have experienced incredible hardships, my lovely… But, _it_ -" He darted his eyes to the side then back to her, "knows that there is more to this story. Your darkest moment. _It_ would hear it."

If he was still able to be frightened, he would have started when her fist slammed into the wood of the table. She had been caught.

She glared with feral eyes, a snarl pulling at her pretty lips. He tilted his head down, returning with his own dark look, similar to the glance a parent would give a child to behave, but his was far more deadly. She didn't seem afraid though.

Finally, through clenched teeth, she forced out those sickening words, "My friends didn't die of hunger."

"Then what did they die of?" He asked her slowly.

 _Here it comes…_

"I killed them. All of them, during their sleep." What was this? Was it a tear forming in those formerly emotionless green eyes? "We were all in pain, but I couldn't handle it anymore… I was driven mad with hunger and I just wanted to go home. There was a large rock that he had placed inside of the cage, having told us that there's always an easier way to choose who survives. I would have used it against him but the bars were too narrow, besides none of us had the physical strength to do anything of the sort."

"And yet-"

"I bashed their heads in," She snapped, her fist tightened, resulting in her finger nails cutting into the fragile skin of her palms, her head lowered, "I didn't cry or scream, I was totally silent. I knew what I was doing, the whole-" A soft gasp, "…time."

He watched silently as her true pain surfaced, overflowing from her eyes. She looked straight at him and, with barely any power left behind her voice, choked, "I just wanted to eat…"

 _Whisper, whisper, whisper._

The silence was thick, only occasionally tainted by the eerie whisperings of the one turned away. The man frowned, his thick brows drawing together as he slowly stood.

Siren stared back, her eyes red and sore with stinging tears, "Are you going to take me?" She asked softly, appearing both frightened and… wanting?

She continued staring, as his gloved hand slowly glided across his waist, over the handle of his deadly blade.

With a smile, he held out his handkerchief.

"Siren?" It was Ethel, she sounded afraid, "Ar' ye in there?"

There was a long pause, no one answered her. The bearded woman, in panic, grabbed the door handle and pulled. She had almost expected to find it locked, so when it easily swung open, she jumped back in shock.

The caravan was totally silent and dark, the candles having burnt out. Ethel, already shaken from her earlier experiences, slowly stepped into the Siren's home.

The floor creaked slightly as she walked, despite her efforts to remain silent. She had barely made two steps before she turned to look down the length of the portable home, the darkness making every inanimate object into a spectre. There was a dark shape, appearing to be slumped over the desk.

"Siren?" Ethel's voice was soft, and shaky. The mist still swirled slowly around the camp, but they seemed to draw away from Siren's caravan, pulled by a mysterious force.

Stepping closer, she reached out with a trembling hand and touched this dark shape.

Instantly, the shape made a quick sharp noise, which Ethel mirrored in horror. In her horror, she had not seen the shape sit up and turn to her. As if on cue, the clouds parted like curtains away from the moon, and both silhouettes took in the other's frightened face.

"Ethel?" Siren asked, her eyes wide and bleary, but, before she could ask anything more, she was crushed into a hug by the bearded mother.

They stayed like that for quite some time, though Siren did not cling back. Ethel was always the more affectionate and motherly, but she had never been quite so forward with her affections as she was now.

Eventually, she was released from the bear like hug and Ethel bent down to look her in the face, a look of worry in her eyes, "He came here, di'n't he?" Siren gave a slow, mechanical nod and that seemed to be all it took to send Ethel into a wild checking spree, "Did he hurt ya?"

"No… No, Ethel, he didn't hurt me." The youngest freak softly reassured, watching as the woman began lighting the candles around her dressing table. Yes, there was electricity, but it looked as though the mysterious stranger had cut the lights.

Ethel checked every part of Siren, not knowing what Edward Mordrake may have done to someone like Siren, headstrong as she was. While gliding her eyes over Siren's arm, she noticed something… a fresh bruise around her wrist? "Siren, what's this?" She asked, her voice soft in horror. They looked like finger marks.

"It's nothing, Ethel, please…" The girl pulled her arm away, grumbling, "I'm fine." She looked down to the side, retreating back into herself as always.

Ethel sighed desperately, petting the girl's hair, "Please Siren, I just want t' help ya… I saw him too." Siren looked up at that, "He had left me about an hour ago, I looked out t' window and saw 'im in here. I was afraid ye had been taken…"

"Well, I haven't," She responded quickly, toying with her hair, "I told him my story, and he didn't want me," She sounded bitter, strangely.

Ethel stared at her for a few moments before she made up her mind, "Come on. You're comin' in with me and Jimmy tonight." She didn't care to hear of Siren's resistance, quickly wrapping her up in a warm blanket and pulling her into her wheelchair. The girl had fought back at first but quickly found she didn't have the energy to continue and so just let Ethel take her. As much as she hated saying it, she did trust _most_ of the freaks.

With Jimmy mysteriously away for the night, Ethel took the girl into her own home and took care of her. Though, the whole time she cared for the girl, she couldn't help but see the often present sadness in her eyes had deepened to dangerous levels.

Unfortunately, Ethel would never, in this lifetime, know of the true pain Siren's young heart was feeling.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I just love how AHS would leave gaps in the narrative to be filled in later...**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and, if you did, please leave a review!**


	7. Talk

**Author's Note:**

 **Even though this is a fairly obvious point, from here on out there will be spoilers for the later part of the season, so be aware!**

 **With that warning out of the way, I hope you enjoy this chapter and leave me a review if you did!**

* * *

 _"_ _We have business to discuss," Elsa softly purred, looking over her shoulder at the handsome 'Talent Scout' who was seated behind her. He stared at her with a strange softness, an amused smile playing on his lips._

 _"_ _And you wouldn't be the first young man to show up, expecting a lesson in love."_

 _Before she turned back to look at herself in the mirror, admiring herself in her own vanity, she saw the man's eyes flicker down to his left. The smile appeared to fade, becoming almost sad before he blinked it away, standing up and moving into the next room as she had requested._

* * *

Elsa blinked out of her trance, the song of the young siren reaching her ears once more. Despite its beauty, she found it did nothing but irritate her, "Liebchen, liebchen, liebchen…" She groaned, rubbing her forehead with her satin gloved fingers, "There is no _passion_ in your voice, try it again!" Her usually soft accent turned harsh with her command.

Siren glared up at the older woman and crossed her arms, "No matter how hard you try, Elsa, you will not be able to conjure up this 'passion' you so desire," Turning her head away, she snapped, "I will not sing another note."

"Oh, don't be childish!" Elsa snarled, storming over to the young girl with just as much attitude. Though, ever the one to be elegant, she forced herself to regain her composure, even if she was biting the inside of her cheek, "Come on now, you sing so _beautifully_ ," Siren could feel bitterness radiating from the word, however sweet it appeared. Her eyes lit up with an idea, "What if I bring in the twins, hm? Bette _really_ needs your tutorin-"

"Elsa, please!" The girl sighed, resting her head in her hands, "I do _not_ want to do this right now."

At a loss, the freak show leader sighed, sitting down on her sofa like a teenager in a huff. Both turned their heads away from the other, falling into an awkward silence.

After what felt like hours, Siren put her hands back onto the wheels of her chair, "If that's all you wanted, I shall return to my caravan."

Elsa looked up, "Wait!" Siren did stop, glancing up to see what the woman wanted. With a sigh, Elsa placed her hand over her mouth, "I hate it when we fight, liebchen… We shouldn't fight. I am a mother to all of my beloved freaks; your mama!"

Siren's eye twitched, "With all due respect, Miss Elsa, you are not my 'mama'."

Reminded, the woman lowered her head, "Ah, yes." A flicker of something danced across her eyes suddenly as she stood up, speaking distantly, "That reminds me…"

The young freak watched in confusion as Elsa wandered into the next room, disappearing from sight for a few moments before returning with a newspaper in her hands. She was flicking through, clearly looking for a specific page, "Ah, here it is. As you requested…" Folding the paper over, she handed it to Siren who took it and glanced at the page.

 _'_ _Charity Ball for Lost Children Funded and Hosted by Mournful Parents'_

There they were, in black and white. She instantly recognised them from the picture which she traced lightly with her finger. They looked so sad, their heads tilted down as they stood to the side of the main spokesperson. Maybe it was just that the photo was taken at the right time…

Elsa's voice cut through her moment, "I had my best people look for this," Her face was drawn into a tight frown, and she sighed, "I suppose I should get you to a phone…"

"No," Siren cut in quickly, lowering the paper, "I am not going back to them."

"What…?" Elsa looked confused, "Then w-why did I waste my time getting you this paper?!" She was getting angry again. It was at times like this that she almost sounded like Madeleine.

Avoiding eye-contact, Siren explained, "I do not want them to know what I have become." Elsa paused, blinking in surprise, "Who wants a depressed freak as a daughter?" She was deadly serious, but there was something more hiding in her deep eyes, too deep for Elsa to see.

Elsa's eyes had softened as her lips slowly closed, the tent falling silent once more. Then, quietly, she approached the young 'mermaid', tracing her satin fingers across the girl's pale cheek. She didn't lean into her touch, "You are one of the few I can truly identify with, liebchen."

She scoffed, "I doubt that. You probably say that to everyone."

"Yes, I do say things to everyone, because I love all of you. You, however…" Elsa paused, brushing a piece of pale blonde hair behind Siren's ear, "You are the only one to know of my… affliction."

Upon seeing the sadness leak into Elsa's features, Siren sighed, her own face softening. She couldn't stay angry at her when she was like this; she was as ashamed of her legs as Siren was. If nothing else, the two had something in common. It was in that moment, that Siren's respect for Elsa became almost unbreakable. She had seen the true side to the woman, not the act.

After several moments of thought, she allowed herself to lean into Elsa's loving hand. The smooth wood of the prosthetic limbs briefly brushing the patchy skin of the 'tail'.

* * *

Siren had been carried out of Elsa's tent not long after that exchange. Her throat was beginning to hurt anyway, she had been singing for over an hour before the argument broke out. Eve had carried her, by request, to the big top where the big table was still set out in front of the stage.

Siren sighed, settling into the wooden chair. She'd have her wheelchair brought in in a while, but for now she was quite happy to just stay there. She had a lot on her mind anyway. Lighting up another cigarette, she drew it closer to her lips in preparation for that first drag.

A deep but loving sound came from the tent flaps, and Siren turned to see Pepper running forward with a big smile on her face. Immediately, the cigarette was stabbed out and discarded. Pepper was more than enough to make her forget her pain.

Siren smiled, it was an amazingly natural one she seemed to only show to Pepper and Salty, and greeted the innocent woman. Tracing her fingers sweetly over Pepper's forehead, she quietly commented that she 'looked lovely today', which made Pepper grin in joy, lowering her chin in that shy way she always did.

Pepper span around, showing off her old dress with childlike joy. Siren smiled and clapped softly, "Very lovely!"

Her smile faded slightly. _Lovely_. Sighing, Siren lowered her head into her hands. Pepper immediately noticed and, unseen to Siren, her own smile quickly faded. She made a soft noise of concern, pushing tentatively at Siren's shoulder.

The 'mermaid' did look up, immediately feeling the wave of guilt washing over her for making Pepper worried. The so-called 'pinhead' (God how she hated that word) knelt down and Siren took both of her hands, "Pepper, do you love Salty?"

Immediately a shy but girly grin broke out on her face, "Ye-es!" She nodded her head excitedly.

Siren returned with her own more restrained smile, her eyes temporarily lowering. Some part of Pepper's brain, despite all claims of her incompetence, saw through Siren's smile. She instantly knew what was going on and she cried out, "Love!"

Siren looked up in surprise, not sure what she was being told. She tilted her head in confusion.

"Lo-o-ove!" Pepper pointed at her, or more playfully jabbed her in the chest several times with both forefingers. Siren stared in shock, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Pepper," Paul called from the tent flap, the carnies coming in to clear away the table before afternoon rehearsals, "Elsa wants you." Pepper responded quickly, smiling at Siren before dashing off to her beloved Mama.

Siren watched silently as the girl was sent away, a strange wetness returning to her eyes which she quickly dashed away. She was carried back to her tent eventually, after the show had finished but she didn't sleep. Something felt off… Something dark would wash over the freaks that night.

The next morning, Salty had passed away.

Siren was as helpless as the others, she spent hours with Pepper to try and console her but nothing helped. She had lost her soul mate and her 'child'. Suddenly, reading books and commenting on how pretty she looked no longer brought that innocent smile back.

Not even a week later, she was sent away. The only light in this godforsaken place had gone… only corruption remained, only pain

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I can't be the only one who cried during 'Orphans', right?**

 **Also thank you so much to Kaylee for your lovely review! It's stuff like that... it just brightens up your day - especially when you're in the middle of essay writing season and you're in dire need for some kind words. Thanks again!**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next couple will hopefully be on the longer side so... yeah, see you then!**


	8. Fear

**Author's Note:**

 **Well, it's been a while! So after all of that, I must have come up with an amazingly long chapter to make up for it, right? Well... uhm... No.**

 **There isn't really any reason for this... Just lack of inspiration?**

 **Ok, so considering I have no excuse, I'm just going to apologise and say... please enjoy? Oh, and forgive the artistic liberty taken in this story (not like the whole thing is already manipulated and centred around my OC...)!**

 **Anyway, enjoy! *runs***

* * *

How could things go so badly in just one year? Stupid question, she told herself as she sat at her vanity; if bad things always happened gradually, no one would have noticed they'd happened.

Nothing remained in this slowly shrinking camp, nothing for her anyway. One by one, all of those she cared about vanished from her life: Ethel, her beloved Salty and Pepper, now Elsa. Resting her head on her hand, she trailed her dulled eyes down a curl of her blonde hair that refused to stay put in her elaborate hairstyle. Usually, she would have attempted to tame it but she just couldn't make herself care anymore.

It was Halloween, the morning of, and, despite her depression, there was a twisting sensation in her gut.

Would she sing?

Her heart told her to, but her head screamed in refusal. As much as she wished to summon that far off spectre, she knew she couldn't risk anyone else from this troop falling victim to him. Other than…

 _Sing_.

No, no, no. She would not have this. That unrelenting part of her that so desired his presence simply had to be silenced. No more would die at her hand for her own selfishness.

 _Sing, sing, sing for me~_

Now her own head was mocking her, what was all of this nonsense and when was it going to end? Picking up her comb, and clips, she forced herself to focus on something to get that infernal voice to-

A shot.

Two shots.

Three.

The voice silenced, replaced by a distant but approaching melody. A whistled tune twisted its way through the air, such a joyful tune corrupted by the fear that accompanied it. The silence that played along - perfectly orchestrated and staged. Such a performance…

Horror spread through her young heart, such a strong emotion she hadn't felt in years. She pushed herself up, all her weight on her thin and brittle arms, and peeked out of the small window of her caravan. The new owner of the Show was sauntering on up, his fingers tracing the air around him while he conducted his symphony of destruction. The gun his wand, held gently. His eyes were closed in peaceful joy, he didn't see as she ducked down again.

He was mad, madder than anything she had yet seen. Or was that really true? No matter, she had to do something.

Part of her soul told her to run, that part that still somehow survived her vicious childhood, but she didn't even need to look at the mangled flesh of her tail to know that was impossible. She was going to die here.

Death at any other time was desired, but now the reality shook her from that delirium.

The caravan shook. He was on the first step.

She panicked. Her hand reached out for the costume rail, not sure why but just searching for something. The wheels on the rail shifted and pulled her from the chair before falling on top of her. She bit through her lip.

The whistling got louder and the caravan shook again.

Second step.

Agonized and blurry eyed, she folded herself in two, the fallen costumes concealing almost all of her. Her forehead pressed against her patchwork skin, her hands spread either side. She couldn't move.

The door was kicked open.

She couldn't see, she could only hear. He had stopped whistling, the silence performing its terrifying solo at long last.

She couldn't feel anything, blood dripped unnoticed down her chin. Oh, but could she really not feel anything? Or was everything overridden by the singular sensation in her mangled legs? They had taken all of the force of the fall. But she didn't say anything, not a sound. Her eyes were closed.

A giddy laugh met her ears and it was followed up by a confident, arrogant statement. She could hear the grin on his lips, "You know," He paused for another giggle, "I've never seen a cliché more perfectly executed in reality."

The heel of his shoe slammed down on her fingertips. They were showing through a thin sliver of translucent fabric. The bones were broken and he continued stamping. When he finally did finish, he leant down to where he believed her head was. Why uncover his prize when he could do so without seeing the fear in their eyes? That always put him off.

He pressed the mouth of the gun against her 'forehead'. He envisioned her eyes but blinked them out of his mind.

"Let me end your suffering…" his voice was a soft coo, as if he gave a damn, "…My little fish out of water."

The shot fired and blood soaked the fabrics. There was no movement. A direct hit.

But where was the fun in stopping there?

One, two, three shots. Four in total. One on the forehead, another through the mouth, the third through the neck and the final in her heart. Perfect.

He straightened himself, a smile on his face. He should do more kills this way; it's a lot more fun. He practically clicked his heels together, leaping down through the open doorway like a child from a rope swing.

However, something stopped him from leaving immediately. The uncertainty of his latest kill was niggling at the back of his head. He turned to look back at the bloodied pile of ownerless rags and almost went back to check.

Ah, but there was far more fun to be had to waste time on checking one solitary freak was dead. He would be back later. With that thought cast out of mind, his whistled tune began once again, and he sauntered off on his mission to purge the rest of the camp.

It was a while before anyone else approached the caravan, the silence filling the person with dread.

Desi bit her plump lip, her fingers trembling as she gripped the sides of the door, slowly stepping inside. Every place she went, her hopes were shattered. There had to be one, just one who survived.

She saw the rags, the blood, the mangled fingers… That same sinking feeling struck her, forcing her down onto her knees. Another one, she thought, her lips twisted into that bitter smile one made when biting back tears.

Despite the horror, she wanted to at least make sure that the poor child didn't look afraid in death. She would simply close her eyes, and leave. There was nothing else she could do if she wanted to preserve her own life, Dandy would undoubtedly be back.

Peeling back the layers of fabric, everything started to piece together. The girl's body was twisted into an unnatural pose, one that would have seemed impossible if it were not for her skinny limbs and deformed legs.

One, two, three bullet wounds. Almost perfectly aligned with each other. Though that was not what made Desi reel back in horror. At least, not the main part.

As if some hunted whale or dolphin had washed ashore, there she lay, surrounded by waves of fabric. A small piece of torn lace fluttered ever so slightly beneath her mouth.

Afraid and acting without much thought, Desi picked up the miracle child, wrapped in cloth, and ran as fast as her legs could go. Her precious cargo hanging limply in her arms.

Talking more to herself than the unconscious girl, Desi whispered, "It'll be a'right, honey… It'll be jus' fine," tenderly tracing her fingers over the girl's untouched head. Though as she ran, she became increasingly aware of the hot life blood trickling down from the three aligned wounds, dripping endlessly off of Siren's misshapen toes.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Don't hate me! Gothic is sometimes clichéd and stuffs like that... Don't hurt me, please.**

 **Anyway I uh, hope you enjoyed and um... Please leave a review if you did! I promise the next chapter will be longer... and will likely arrive in a few years.**


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